I… sometimes struggle to find the words, to describe the struggle that resides within me. I push back with my psyche against the darkness and a light radiates from somewhere within that is not like any other light.
And in the light we see the cracks and scars that mark us (scars both literal and more ambiguous), we see the lines of worry around our eyes; lines that mark our love.
For if you have loved you have worried and if you have been afraid than you have hoped. And so that light that shines and betrays us to the world as broken, rebuilt, worried, afraid, hopeful also shows us to be beautiful.
Far more precious than ancient antiques, paint flaked and faded, chipped porcelain; we are living, breathing legacies of everything and everyone we’ve loved and our humanity, our fragility, those same feelings that make us ache are those same feelings that make us alive.
So bear your scars with pride and lift your chin. You do not need to hide the lines around your eyes or the pain within them. Embrace the wholeness of that which makes you feel weak, for that which we mistake as weakness is merely bravery and weariness. And accept that you can be–in fact, that you are–both broken and beautiful.